


i don't know where the good times went

by Skyworld



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 15, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Cas dealing with Chuck being a liar, Case Fic, Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Chuck Shurley is God, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Dean Winchester Needs to Use Actual Words, Depressed Castiel (Supernatural), Depression, Episode: s14e17 Game Night, Episode: s14e18 Absence, Episode: s14e19 Jack in the Box, Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I tried to reduce his appearance, M/M, Nearly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Rowena would be proud of me for that pun, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, a mega coda, but they are idiots so it takes a while, codas with less Nick in it though, several s14 codas stuck together, some zombie guts, writing this helped me after my father died
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22845232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyworld/pseuds/Skyworld
Summary: After Mary dies and Chuck reveals his true colors everything falls apart. Dean, Sam and Cas are more apart than ever but have to stick together to get through the aftermath - grief, anger, depression, fading powers and a goddamn apocalypse - together. Working through all of their their issues proves to be complicated though, especially when there are Dean's feelings for Cas in the mix.
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	1. PART 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is made out of several codas I started writing after the episodes aired but which were never finished due to several reasons, most of them negative headspace (because let's be honest, the last few episodes, except for Moriah, were depressing as hell and fandom dragged me even more down). In summer when I was in dear need of a distraction due to my dad's death I decided that it would be a shame that the various bits and pieces I wrote should remain unfinished and I decided to cobble them together like a Frankenfanfiction or a mega coda. Still, it felt like something was still missing in the middle and I started to add stuff which, of course, totally escalated into a zombie apocalypse case fic in chapter 2 and I still have to pick up some loose ends and write the ending. Most of this (still not finished) fic I wrote on my phone during the one hour commute to my university - I'm at approximately 20k words now, I'm shocked myself :D
> 
> This fic somehow became a way to cope with my grief and I am very interested in seeing it finished, even if I know it's not my best work. English is not my first language and I am still insecure about publishing my stuff. I'm too shy to ask a stranger for help so this story is not beta'd.  
> Constructive criticism is always welcome, especially concerning the character's voices and grammar.
> 
> Enjoy reading,  
> Skyworld :)

“Mary?”

No answer.

Slowly, as if he was approaching a skittish animal, Jack walked over to the dark spot the ground where, only seconds before, Mary Winchester had been, the overwhelming feeling in his head from just seconds ago replaced by a shocked coldness that spread more and more into his body with every step he took. Like his brain had been snap-frozen and his mind was now desperately trying to catch up, to crawl out of wherever it was stuck now, because _what the hell just happened?_ And how?

  
  


An irrational thought popped into his head that was obviously still trying to come to terms with the last 45 seconds. _Where is the rewind button_ , Jack thought desperately and he needed a couple of seconds until it sunk in that this was not a movie, this was real. Gruesomely real.

  
  


Jack knelt down next to the spot on the ground which looked a horrifying lot like ash. Had this been here before? Or maybe he'd just placed her somewhere else? He reached out to her with his powers, searching for wherever she might be, for a place his powers could latch on to her and fly her back here. He came up empty at the first try. Telling himself that he just hadn't looked hard enough, Jack tried again. Nothing. It felt like his powers slipped away from her every time he tried to get a grip. Still nothing. “Mary?” he repeated.

Shock slowly transformed into panic.

  
  


_Oh god no, please_ , he thought, feeling the blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy, _what have I done, what have I done?_

Just one moment in which life was ripped brutally out of her. One moment, changing everything. Mary was gone.

  
  


Dead.

  
  


And Jack had murdered her.

  
  


He had murdered Sam and Dean's mother.

  
  


Just minutes ago he had murdered a man in cold blood, burnt him alive and hadn't felt remorseful at all, convinced he had done the right thing. He felt cold then, detached, like the cause justified the deeds, burying his emotions under a heavy blanket of righteousness.

It was all gone now and just like when he was powerless, he was achingly aware that he still was just a child, two years old, inexperienced and blinded by the shiny temptations of his powers.

  
  


The boy couldn't stop the sob coming out of him, dry heaves at first, feeling like they forced themselves up his throat, pushing away the shock, the disbelief, confronting him with the cold, hard, ruthless reality.

  
  


Then, as if a dam was broken, it all crashed down on him. One moment in which his whole world was turned upside down. His brief acquaintance with Max, Stacy and Eliot and their falling out had taught him that, apparently, even if he fixed what he had broken before, it sometimes didn't mean that a relationship, a friendship could ignore what had happened and still fell apart, just like it had happened with Jack and the three teens.

If he had to take a wild guess - killing Sam’s and Dean's mother even by accident would not fall under the category of water under the bridge.

He had ruined everything. Under no circumstances would Sam, Dean and Cas take him back now. 

  
  


With his body still shaken by sobs, he rose to his wobbly legs, contemplating how to move on from here. What should he do? He knew only one thing: he had to bring Mary back, he had to fix what he had broken, no matter how Sam and Dean would react.

  
  


Would they hunt him? Would they be like John Winchester, madly chasing him for years and years on a mad quest for vengeance until they finally cornered him somewhere and snuffed his light out somehow?

If it ever came to this, would he fight back? Could he ever hurt Sam, Dean and Cas intentionally?

  
  


Jack had no answers to all those questions.

He just knew his life would never be the same again.

  
  


***

  
  


Sam's bloodied, bashed in face would haunt his future nightmares, Dean had zero doubts about that. It would take some time until he would be able to close his eyes again without seeing his little brother on the brink of unconsciousness, murmuring what easily could have been last words. Again.

  
  


_As soon as he spotted Sam lying on the floor and rushed down beside him, Dean knew the situation was serious. Obviously, Sam had been gravely injured._

_Swallowing the anger and hate towards Nick down, he focused on Sam instead._

  
  


_He had to keep Sam conscious, had to keep him talking but not let him bid farewell. He couldn't take it. “Let’s play a little game. We're gonna count, okay? We're gonna count.”_

_Instead of answering, Sam gasped for air._

“ _Count with me now. One.”_

_Another gasp for air. “One,” Sam repeated and it sounded horribly painful._

“ _Two.”_ Please Sam, please.

“ _...two.” It sounded weaker than before. Dean's heart sped up. Desperation threatened to close up his throat, swallowing his words, but Dean could not afford to succumb to his weakness. He had to stay strong now, get Sam through this and then later break down when the situation was resolved and he had a minute or two to spare._

“ _There you go. Three?”_

  
  


_But Sam stopped counting. He seemed to have something on his mind. “You - you always put me first… your whole life...”, Sam said weakly while simultaneously violently gasping for air, his gaze distant and glassy but still trying to focus on his big brother, while Dean pressed the cloth to his head to stop the blood flow. Cold dread filled Dean's body, a sinking feeling in his stomach that Jack might not come back, the ambulance might be too late, Sam might -_

_Dean shook his head. If it was to banish his own fear or stop Sammy from talking or from overstraining himself, Dean didn't know. “No no. No. Ahhh, come on, stay with me now” he said, trying to calm Sam down, who apparently was dead set on saying goodbye, which was something Dean would not allow to happen._

“ _Yeah okay, alright. Just count with me, come on,” Dean said, feeling his brave face slipping, the smile on his lips that said “we get through this” feeling like a mask that once maybe had fit on his face but since then had started to shrink and choke him in the process. He knew he was about to lose it and he could only stand there and watch, could do nothing to stop it._

  
  


_Sam didn't reply. His eyes drooped shut like he'd used up the last bit of strength._

“ _Sammy? Hey! SAM!” Dean cried, lightly slapping his brother's cheek while he felt as if all air had been punched out of his lungs._

Please. Not Sammy. Not again.

  
  


_The sound of flapping wings right next to him made him look up. It was Jack, who needed less than a second to recognise the seriousness of the situation and knelt down beside Dean and Sam. White and golden light from Jack's hands and eyes fell on Sam, closed the wounds and made the blood on his face disappear._

_When Sam opened his eyes, took a deep breath and sat up like he hadn't been on the brink of death just moments before, just then Dean felt like he could breathe again._

  
  


This alone would have been enough of a reason for Dean to grab his brother, his adopted son and his mother, wherever she was at the moment, call Cas from wherever he roamed at the moment, barricade them in the bunker with their phones switched off for some family recovery time. Just a couple of hours ago, right before Nick lured them into his trap and tried to kill them all, they'd had nothing else on their mind than how to assemble goddamn Mouse Trap and if pineapple on pizza was a crime against humanity or not.

  
  


Dean was tired. He wanted to go home, sleep and not be in mortal danger for once. He wanted a normal evening and to play silly board games with his family. He wanted to lock himself in his room, flop face first on his bed and scream into his pillow until all tension left his body.

**  
**   
  


After Jack told them he'd stopped Nick and that Mary was alive and well, he flew back to fetch her with the promise to meet them at the bunker.

They drove Donatello back home, then turned the Impala around and made their way over to Lebanon. It was time to go home.

  
  


It could have been over now that Nick was dead.

**  
  
  
  
**   
  


But the blows just kept on coming and coming.

  
  


The loud squeak of the bunker’s door announced their return back home. Sam and Dean made their way down the stairs, exhausted after several nerve-wracking hours and another almost-death. Deans continuous yawns caught Sam, who had every intention of heading straight to bed.

  
  


“Helloo! We’re back!” Dean yelled as he threw his duffel bag on the war room table, announcing their arrival. Jack and Mary should be back already. Maybe they sat in the kitchen, or they had gone to bed as soon as they came back.

  
  


There was no one in the kitchen, with no signs at all indicating that someone had been here since Sam and Jack had left earlier. No used coffee mugs in the sink, their cold, forgotten pizzas from game night all still in one piece, not one slice missing.

It was after Sam discovered the orphaned bedrooms that the alarm bells started ringing for real.

Mary and Jack weren't home yet.

  
  


With a tense feeling, Dean dialed Mary's number and felt his stomach drop when he only reached her voicemail. Five minutes later and it was voicemail again. Call him crazy or whatever, but Dean had a bad feeling about this. Something must have happened. Or, it was at least a possibility. Maybe his misgivings were the result of the last rather strenuous weeks, but he wouldn't take chances. He trusted his gut instincts.

  
  


Quickly he sent his mother a text message. After that, Sam had fired up his laptop and looked if the GPS on Mary's phone was active. It wasn't.

“Fuck,” Dean cursed and tore at his hair.

Sam said nothing, but clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white and his fingernails pressed bruises into his palms.

  
  


He caught himself after a minute and instead searched for the location of Jack's phone. After a second, the camera zoomed in on a location

"There we go" Sam said as he recognized it as where they had fought with Nick earlier - but after a couple of seconds the location changed. "Look! Wait. Is that Nepal? Wait a second."

Dean craned his neck to look at the computer green over his brother's shoulder. "Where'd he go?" he asked. Sam shoved the laptop so that Dean could have a better look.

"There" he said while pointing at a red dot on the map.

"Lima, Peru" Dean read, just when the dot jumped again.

"Jack's flying. Paris, France" Sam said, sounding as bewildered as Dean felt.

"What the hell is he doing?" the older hunter asked, still trying to comprehend how everything had went off the rails in only a couple of hours.

**  
**   
  


That's when Cas called.

**  
  
**   
  


To say Dean was in a foul mood after speaking to Cas who told him about the untimely demise of Felix the snake and Cas' suspicion that something might be wrong with Jack was an understatement. He started pacing and Sam would not be surprised if he wore a groove into the bunker floor if he continued to pace. He was agitated enough and so was Sam, but if Dean now added some Cas-related feelings to the mix, Sam knew it would only get worse and he had to be the one keeping his head straight and focused.

  
  


Sam groaned internally. It was nothing he needed right now, but then, so was the whole situation of Jack and Mary missing.

He chose not to comment on it.

  
  


Sam tried to ignore his brother while he tapped on his phone and put out an APB on Jack and Mary. It wasn't likely, but maybe the other hunters might see them somewhere.

  
  


Just after Sam had texted Donna and Claire, Dean snapped.

“We need to get out to where Jack was and we need to talk to Cas. He knows something,” Dean said with a stony expression on his face, but at the same time burning for action. Sam sighed. There it was. Dean had officially mixed his Cas related angst to the whole mess. _You hung up on him when you got pissed_. _Maybe we would be a lot wiser now if you hadn't done that and let him talk instead, genius,_ Sam thought and rolled his eyes. It was bound to become a lot more complicated from now on.

  
  


Their whole relationship was complicated and Sam had long since stopped trying to understand if they were an item or not or what the hell, but it was obvious that they felt something for each other, but to Sam's knowledge were caught in an endless circle of "will they, won't they?" they couldn't get out of, a fact which tended to make things more complicated.

Yup. Complicated.

**  
  
  
**   
  


Sam had tried talking sense into his brother for the whole hour and a half they sat in the car. Sam, even if terrified himself and avoiding all thoughts to what horrible thing might have happened to Jack and Mary, tried to be the calm voice of reason and tried to calm his brother down, who, after texting Cas to get his location out of him, ignored all speed limits and apparently saw right through Sam's façade, all while ranting about Cas, whatever he hadn't told them and being worried about their mother and son.

And so, Dean busted Sam’s well-thought-out plan of action including no arguments and a rational course of action.

  
  


To be fair, later Sam too wouldn't care less about aforementioned plans and rationality when they finally arrived where Jack apparently had fought with Nick. Cas arrived only a couple of minutes later and jumped out of his car the second he'd killed the engine. Dean's greeting sounded cold, detached and like strict business only, which made Cas look like Dean had kicked his puppy when Dean looked away, but he schooled his facial expression back almost instantly. Sam threw his arm around Cas' back and hugged him to counter his brother's stressed-out douchiness.

Their faint hope to find Mary or Jack quickly dissolved. There was no trace of them. Instead they found the burnt remains of Nick and a patch of burnt ground which Cas identified as a bigger version of an angelic blast.

  
  


Sam's gut told him that whatever had happened here, it was nothing good. The crisp piece of coal that had been Nick once horrified him due to the brutality with which he must have been murdered - which was ironic, after Sam himself had told him that he could burn for all he cared after Nick had released Abraxas and after he was almost brutally beaten to death himself by Nick just shortly before. Even more horrified him the dawning realization that if Mary Winchester had been in the middle of all this, the probability that some harm had befallen her, or worse, became bigger and bigger by the minute.

  
  


"It might have been Lucifer", Dean said in a last desperate attempt of hope. "Nick was trying to bring him back."

Sam shook his head. "But Jack said-" he started, but was interrupted by his brother just after he opened his mouth: "Who cares what Jack said? We don't know what happened!"

  
  


Dean seemed to have succumbed into his fear-induced rage mode while inspecting the scene, a mood Sam hated with passion, because it tended to make everything worse in the end due to rash decisions made in emotionally overloaded situations, followed by crashing guilt for treating others as scapegoats or punching bags, followed by stupid decisions once more, this time due to guilt for being an ass.

Well, Sam was used to it after forty years. He still hated it, but it was unlikely Dean would ever change. And frankly, right now Sam was just as worried for Mary and Jack as Dean to chastise him for being an asshole to Cas, who Dean had found to be guilty for the current situation, an opinion he voiced loud and angry.

  
  


"I swear, if he did something to her, if she is -" he stopped, not able to voice the imagined scenario out loud, then turned to Cas and pointed at him. _"Then you're dead to me!"_ Dean bellowed, ignoring the crushed look on Cas' face. Sam saw it though and he knew that Dean had crossed some invisible line. Now he had to step in after all. "Dean", he said in an attempt to knock some sense into his older brother, though he already knew it would be futile.

Sam was right. Now that he had started to unleash his rage and fear unto them he wouldn't be stopped so easily. "No, he knew. He _knew_ something was wrong with the kid. He _knew_ it, and he didn't tell us! He didn't even tell _us_!"

  
  


"I was scared", Cas said, apparently taking the blame again, accepting the role as Dean's scapegoat once more. "I believed in Jack for so long, I believed that he was good. I - I knew that he would be good for the world. And he was good for us. My faith in him, it, it never wavered, and then I saw what he did. It wasn't malice. It wasn't evil. It was like Jack saw a problem, and in his mind, he just solved it with that snake."

"The snake?!" Dean sounded irritated by the snake as it was not his favourite animal in the world and he hated to talk about it. He didn't even respond to the rest.

Cas though wasn't finished yet. "What he did wasn't bad. It was the absence of good. And I saw that in him. But we were a family, and I didn't want to lose that, so I thought I could fix it on my own. Felt like it was my responsibility. So I left. And I didn't tell you, you had enough on your plate. If I could go back and just talk to him right there, I would. But I can't, Dean. I failed you. And I failed Jack. And I failed -"

Cas had intended to say "Mary", but he never got to it, as Dean cut him off, delivering the next gut punch to the angel.

"No, no. Don't even say it. Don't even say her name."

  
  


Sam's suspicion that something horrible must have happened to Mary was verified when Rowena called right then and told them she hadn't been able to find Mary with her tracking spell, spelling out one of his worst fears in eight words and a Scottish accent.

  
  


"Mary Winchester is no longer on this earth."

**  
**   
  


***

**  
  
**   
  


The atmosphere between Dean and Cas was still bitter now, days after Mary's funeral where they burnt the shell Jack had brought back and Cas' visit in her and John's Heaven. Sam and Dean grieved and they grieved on their own, privately. Sam just wanted to be alone and the couple of times Cas had met him in the kitchen in the last few days, they didn't talk much. Sam seemed just as miserable as Cas about their little family falling apart in such a sudden and violent way. Sometimes they sat at the table in the kitchen, Sam sipping his coffee, Cas just… sitting, a hopefully comforting presence who didn't pressure Sam to talk, or sometimes keeping an eye on the laptop for possible signs of Jack's whereabouts.

  
  


Dean had sticked to few stints out of his room with even fewer words directed towards Cas, most of them still harsh and dismissive. To Cas, it felt like their profound bond had been brutally ripped to shreds and that Dean didn't care about its loss at all, when Cas felt like he had lost a limb.

Cas knew Dean and why he acted like he did and objectively, he shouldn't be bothered as much by the forms Dean's grief took sometimes. But Cas himself wasn't at his a-game, so to say, and being denied his family's support and Dean's friendship because of some screwed up blame game took his toll on the angel, as well as years of trying to be the strong one, the guardian, too. His many failings, his depression and his fading powers were proof of that.

**  
**   
  


They couldn't catch a break though. First, there was the hunter's memorial for Mary. Sam tried to at least partially put on a good front for that, even if it was hard to smile, to shake hands, to receive condolences and offer some comfort of his own when he felt like he had no capacity whatsoever to shoulder someone else's grief, too, which made him put his own feelings away and put on a brave, functioning face for the other ones - the remaining hunters from Apocalypse World were his friends and he was glad they wanted to come and still have something to do with him after the fiasco of Michael's killing spree. They deserved to grieve and say goodbye to Mary, too.

  
  


After that, Cas went to Heaven to ask for the angel's help and they investigated the biblical deaths Jack might be responsible for, a suspicion they proved to be correct when they talked to the man in the hospital. Worse, apparently, Duma had lied to Castiel and manipulated Jack to rain heavenly judgement on non-believers and to be Heavens sock puppet.

  
  


At this point, Dean snapped and with an expression that did a bad job hiding how pissed and desperate he really was he led Sam to the room in which they had stored the Ma'lak box.

 _This is a nightmare_ , Sam thought. _We've slipped into a nightmare and it only gets worse and worse and worse._

He knew what Dean intended to do was wrong. He hated everything to even think about it. Though, after the last weeks and days had taken their toll on him, the younger Winchester doubted he had the strength to convince his brother of how wrong this was. Which didn't mean he wouldn't try to stop this.

"Are we seriously talking about locking Jack in this? No, we're seriously talking about not having a choice."

  
  


Dean shrugged. "We can't kill him, okay? And this is warded to lock down an archangel." He stepped away from the Ma'lak box and Sam, facing the wall, as if he didn't dare to look at his brother right now.

Sam's conscience screamed he had to stop Dean. Meanwhile, another voice who got louder and louder with each passing day screamed it's frustration of not getting a break at him, nevermind the consequences. If he had to guess, his breaking point, the moment in which the second voice would drown his conscience drew near. But it was not now. He still wouldn't give in.

"And then what? We just force him inside?"

"Maybe. But he might if he only has to stay in there long enough for us to finish the spell to fix his soul." Dean's answer came, he still wouldn't look at Sam though. This never was a good sign. Something was up.

  
  


"Spell? What spell? There is no spell. You want to lie to him?", Sam asked, a suspicion growing what it was Dean was suggesting. He didn't like it one bit.

  
  


"No" Dean answered, shaking his head, but finally turned around. "Well, I mean, I want _Zeppelin_ to get back together. But what I need, what we need is to stop Jack. Big difference. But here's the deal. We both got to sign off on it. This might be our only shot, and if he even catches a whiff that this is a scam, he's off into the wind."

The voices in his head screaming at him became louder, a crude mix of _"I have to stop this"_ and _"fuck everything, give me a break."_

It was just like two years ago when Dean had resented Jack so much, before Cas returned to them, when he acted like a bloodhound on a trail, searching for ways and ways to put Jack to blame for everything, tried to find a legitimate reason to get rid of him because he couldn't stand seeing him. _When I see him, all I can think of is everything we've lost_ , he had screamed. After that, after Cas came back, Dean felt guilty and tried to make an effort, tried to connect with Jack. And now it was like all of it had never happened. Like he'd never admitted to loving Jack, to calling Jack his son, to feeling guilty for his behaviour and for leaving when he had died. It was back to square one and Sam was clueless if he had enough strength to go through it a second time. Now, he didn't even have the hope of finding their mom alive and bringing her back anymore, a hope he had carried before him like a torch two years ago. He had nothing.

"Exactly. And how do you think he's not gonna know something's up?" Sam asked, the lines on his forehead deepening. How Dean could sound so calm while saying such cruel things he couldn't fathom.

  
  


"Because you're gonna be so damn sincere."

  
  


"Me?"

  
  


Dean made a confirming hum.

  
  


Sam hated it. He wanted to scream, grip Dean's shoulders and shake him until he came back to his senses. It probably wouldn't work though, as he apparently was dead set on doing this. And on dragging Sam down along with him. Still, Sam had to ask.

"Why me?"

  
  


Dean sounded stone cold as he said "Because you've always been in his corner, all right? You're his go-to guy. Sam, if you reach out, he'll come. If I do it, after what happened to Mom, I could lose it. I will lose it."

  
  


"I don't think this is gonna work" Sam objected, his voice shaky and quiet, in a desperate tone. _Please don't make me do this._

Dean didn't hear his plea. Instead he, drove the last nail into the proverbial coffin.

  
  


"One way to find out."

  
  


That did it. Sam knew he should scream at his brother, make him see that there is one thing they should have learned after all these years was that trapping creatures in a prison, that bottling things up instead of dealing with it, even this creepy enchanted metal box would not work forever but presumably make it even worse. Everything inside him writhed at the thought of Jack inside this metal coffin. It was wrong and they should find another way of prevent their surrogate son of doing more harm. They should put every effort into saving his soul.

  
  


But Sam knew he didn't have the strength to convince his brother of the wrongness of his strategy (it was possible he would see it himself sooner rather than later), find a way to restore a soul, for which there were no books they could hit, no one they could really ask for help as it surpassed even Cas' knowledge of souls and, of course, his powers, which were not what they were back in the day when Sam lacked a soul. Also, their number of powerful allies was a little short these days.

He was just too tired for everything else. The voice screaming for a break had won. His conscience choked on his own screaming voice, coughed and went quiet.

  
  


Sam sighed. "Jack", he said. Another sigh. This would end in a catastrophe. But in for a penny, in for a pound. Story of his life. "I hope you can hear this..."

**  
**   
  


***

**  
  
  
**   
  


Two iron bars and one angel blade were hardly ideal for hand-to-hand combat with a horde of freshly risen and undead dudes. But they had them surrounded in seconds with their sheer numbers and the Impala’s trunk was out of their reach.

  
  


Dean felt the rush of adrenaline running through him, his body adjusting, anticipating the fight that was undoubtedly going to start soon. Why else would those half-rotten zombie-people come after them?

  
  


Somehow, he had problems to determine if the last minutes had really happened. He should be used to shit escalating so hard and fast as his life regularly derailed like a train going too fast on the tracks, overturning a couple of times and burning out, but every time it happened it was as scary and horrible as the first time. He just became better at dealing with it, or so Dean thought.

  
  


Right now was not the time, though. And so the hunter shoved all thoughts of a pissed off Chuck who started the apocalypse with a snap of his fingers away, stashed his feelings of betrayal somewhere so a possible future version of Dean could deal with them, if he came out of this alive, of course, and tried not to look at the spot right next to the statue of Mother Mary where the lifeless, burnt-out body of their son still lay.

  
  


_Deal later. Survive first._

  
  


The undead came closer and closer and the space between them became smaller. Right next to him, Sam and Cas stood just as tense next and behind him, their weapons raised and focused on the approaching monsters.

  
  


_This was it._ They would meet their ends here, together, going down fighting back-to-back. In the end, it always came back to the three of them. The last weeks and months hadn't been easy on them and especially on Dean and Cas’ friendship or whatever-it-was between them, but as they stood here now, facing their ends together, it was as if their many disagreements were being drowned out by the pure, all-encompassing love for his brother and his angel, the, because who was he kidding, really, love of his life.

  
  


If this were a romantic movie, Dean would declare his undying love to Cas, for one lyrical moment of total understanding between them, of peace of mind and the feeling of closure for the audience, but-

  
  


Life didn't work that way. Life was too short for that nonsense if one was simultaneously being eyed by a horde of hungry zombies. Time didn't pass magically slower if they somehow decided to be all touchy-feely in the last ten seconds of their life so that being torn to shreds a second later might be more bearable. Because that was the secret that all romantic stories never told: It wouldn't be more bearable, it would hurt just as much and they would still be dead afterwards.

  
  


All Dean could do was to hope that they already knew.

  
  


One of the zombies snarled. In the next second, the self proclaimed Team Free Will was tackled by the masses of half decayed bodies from all sides.

Dean stabbed and drew the pointed end of his makeshift weapon into whatever opponent in front of him, but it was clear from the second the fight had started that they were outnumbered and wouldn't last for long. Behind him, Dean heard Sam scream and saw him going down from the corner of his eye. Everything in Dean screamed at him to turn around and help his brother, but it was Cas who acted before Dean could decide on what to do.

  
  


“Close your eyes!” he commanded and Dean complied. The white light that lit the graveyard up just an instant later was visible even through closed eyes. It only lasted a couple of seconds, then the light ebbed off, leaving behind the foggy darkness clouding the graveyard that hadn't been there minutes before.

  
  


With a groan, an almost uninjured Sam pushed a dead zombie away and climbed to his feet. Dean realized just then that he had been holding his breath, but his breath of relief got stuck in his throat when he spotted the crumpled, unmoving shape of a man in a trenchcoat on the grass amidst all the zombies.

  
  


“Cas?”

  
  


_Oh no, no no no no no no-_

  
  


He fell to his knees next to the angel, a well-known, heart wrenching kind of fear rising in him that differed from the one he felt while being surrounded by undead people.

With a push, he turned Cas around, so that his face wasn't pressed into the chest of some half-decayed guy anymore and shook his shoulders, but the angel showed no reaction.

He still breathed, but it was shallow and weak.

  
  


“Cas?" Dean repeated, more desperate, pulled him into his lap. "C'mon, don't do this to me. Cas, please!"

  
  


_Don't make me lose you too. Don't make me lose you after the last thing I said to you was that you should leave. I can't lose you, Cas._

He immediately schooled his face into a neutral expression when he saw the desperate and shocked look Sam was giving him and the lifeless figure of their best friend in his lap.

"He's alive" he said and Sam's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Now let's get Jack and then bring them home. Quick."

  
  


Together, Sam and Dean heaved him back to the Impala and gently laid him on the back seat.

  
  


Dean's gaze rested on his best friend for a moment longer, taking in the exhausted, tired features of the angel and an unpleasant but well-known feeling creeped up in Dean. He hated to see Cas like this, totally running on empty, and still desperate to protect them, even if Dean and him were not on the best of terms right now and both of them had threatened to end their friendship multiple times in the last months.

  
  


But apparently there were some habits that died hard, and those included that in the end they always stuck together nevermind if the rifts between them were as big as they are now, and that Cas rather drove himself to total exhaustion than to see his family get hurt.

  
  


_Cas, you stupid son of a bitch_ , Dean thought as he closed the door and locked the car in case there were zombie strays here somewhere that Cas' grace explosion had missed, so they would only reach Cas by destroying the car and making a lot of noise in the process.

  
  


Then, Dean braced himself and turned Jack who still lay on the grass, his wings burnt into the ground - something that not twenty-four hours ago Dean might have wanted to see, but now that it was real, after he'd come to his senses, it was more like he stepped into a nightmare - from the one he was already living anyway.

  
  


Jack was two and a half years old and had died for a second time now, which was, for the most part, Dean's fault. If Michael had never escaped, if Dean had never listened to Cas' and Sam's pleas and gone into the Ma'lak box, Sam would still have his hunter friends, Jack would still have his soul and Rowena wouldn't be traumatised, while Dean paid for what he'd brought upon them and in time, would have faded into a fond memory of a brother, a father, a friend. Or so he told himself, as he approached the little boy he'd vowed to protect, once, after the first time he had tried to kill him.

  
  


Sam was right behind him, his gaze diverted as he couldn't look at Jack, at the burnt parts of his face, and the empty eye sockets, his thoughts spent on blaming himself, too, as the one who had angered Chuck with the gun.

It was almost unbearable to look at the kid, so he tried to avoid it, which proved difficult when trying to lift him up and carry him to the closest vehicle, which was Cas' grey pick up. What he was not able to ignore was the smell of burnt flesh. Sam gagged as they hoisted Jack over the back flap of the truck bed.

  
  


Dean, who wasn't better for it, saw him struggling afterwards and pried the keys for the pick up from Sam's fingers.

"I got this. You go, we have to look out if the bunker is still safe. I'm right behind you," the older Winchester said and tossed him Baby's keys.

Sam caught them and nodded with a stricken look on his face, before he fled to the Impala, ashamed of himself.

He threw himself on the driver's seat and a last look over his shoulder to check on Cas before he started the engine and drove off the graveyard. The last thing he saw of it was a stray zombie slowly approaching Dean and the pick up truck and his brother who slashed its head off with Cas' angel blade. Then the graveyard vanished behind a stone wall and a group of trees and he desperately hoped that he never had to come here ever again.

  
  


“ _I got no reason to fight  
And I don't care what's wrong and who's right  
There's nothing that we didn't try  
Pretending to know what we don't  
Understand yet  
I got my back to the wall  
And no one's gonna answer my call  
Like a hit from out of the blue  
I woke up this morning, it came without warning  
My house is on fire  
I've been hanging from a tree  
I've been down to the sea  
As I walked every street  
I found no one to cheat  
As I stay up all night  
As I lay by your side  
I've been chasing around  
I got up, I came down, so come on  
I make my way all around  
And if everybody's wearing you down  
It's been that way for too long  
I woke up this morning, it came without warning  
We got no reason to fight  
So will anybody join us tonight  
Will you stop and give it a try  
My house is on fire but I am alive“  
 **Beatsteaks,**_[„House On Fire“](https://youtu.be/9wEsW_I9J_Y)

  
  


**  
**   
  



	2. PART 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A case sends Sam, Dean and Cas to a zombie-infested town in Iowa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This blew totally out of proportion while writing when originally, the case was only supposed to be a short transition between two parts of this story. So now I present to you 9k words of Cas angst, zombies and three dumbasses who are not talking to each other about the important things.
> 
> I wrote most of this chapter after my dad's death last summer. It helped a lot, but for a long time I wasn't sure if what I wrote was worthy of publishing or not. I'd like to thank awesome shellz for beta'ing this chapter and for showing me that it wasn't as bad as I feared! :)
> 
> Little fun fact: The title of this fic comes from a line in the song at the end of this chapter, which is one of my absolute favorite songs of all time of my favorite band of all time - and yes, I'm very happy I managed to combine my favorite tv show and my love for somber 90's punk rock. I'm that kind of person. I regret nothing.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> Have fun!

The next few days and weeks were difficult. They had to build another pyre, the third time in a couple of weeks while the world was shaken by the mass release of monsters. The hunter community was constantly on edge and on duty as the newspapers _were_ filled with more and more mysterious deaths and disappearances and, as if that wasn’t enough, reports of natural catastrophes, which were partly the result of Chuck's temper tantrum, _as well as_ monsters. Not a few news stations made comparisons between the current situation and the one from ten years ago, which, regarding their celestial cause, was not that far away from the truth.

 _"The sunken holiday cruise ship was, as eyewitnesses reports from surviving crew members and guests tell, the direct result of the assault of a kraken. Investigators are now searching for clues if some chemical on the ship might have caused a mass hallucination, while the reason for the ship's accident is still being investigated further. There are currently 59 confirmed deaths, with numbers expected to rise as there are still 139 people missing and the hopes of finding them alive dwindle by the hour",_ Jody read to Sam over the phone. "Seriously, I don't know what to say to this. Whether I'm supposed to be happy as a hunter that the media and most people remain ignorant, or mad as a sheriff because people lie to themselves and I have to deal with both right now. Also, there are the girls. It's more dangerous than ever and it gets more difficult by the day to keep them from hunting twenty-four seven. Patience says her premonitions have to be used to help people - she can't even steer them, but if I mention that I get screamed at. Claire hasn't mentioned Kaia since everything started, and even Alex is searching for cases all the time."

She sounded exhausted.

"Do you need help?" Sam asked. "The buddy system is still in place. I could ask someone if they would help you, or Dean or I could come over."

"Max has already said he's coming to help out. Donna would, too, but she has her hands full with being a sheriff and a hunter, as well."

"Okay," Sam said "but if you ever need us, just call."

"I will. The same applies to you guys, if you need me, call me. I know you and Dean are running on fumes and caffeine and not much else. Anyway… how is Cas doing?"

"He's…" Sam began, not knowing how to continue, then settled with "still not well" because he didn't even know how to put into words how the mental and physical strains and horrors of the last years had apparently caught up with the angel, hitting him with full force, so that he was barely able to stand on his own legs.

  
  


Saving Sam and Dean in the graveyard had drained his batteries in a way that was apparently more severe than they had first anticipated - a development that drove Dean, who just had vowed to mend fences and apologize to instead rant at Cas about irresponsible behavior and dangerous tendencies of overdoing it. At which point Cas said "Pot, kettle" and laughed cynically, driving Dean up the wall, and soon they were full-on screaming at each other again, making Sam hide in the library. He still needed a vacation, some time without monsters and screaming matches, loss and grief. A change of scene to recharge his batteries.

Sam could have handled the continuing saga of Dean and Cas' worrying aggressively about each other, but it wasn't the real problem.

Next to the devastation due to Jack's death, how does an angel who lived for millennia with no other purpose of serving God take the news that his father sees nothing more in him than a character, a toy he can torment, play with and throw away if he so desires? One of his three favorite toys he puts through the blender, just because it's fun to see them shredded into pieces?

  
  
  
  


The answer was: this particular angel didn't take it well. The last few days he'd spent in bed to regain his strength. He didn't feel much like talking after his arguments with Dean, _nor_ moving or breathing and instead just stared at the brick wall while he had to endure Dean's passive-aggressive mother-henning, which meant he periodically brought him stew or tomato rice soup in complete ignorance that Cas was generally in no need of nourishment. After Cas had declined Dean's comfort food for a third time, Sam came into his room and politely asked him to please just eat the soup, even if it tasted like molecules, if not to feel better then only to make Dean stop sulking in the kitchen and snapping at Sam.

  
  


It didn't taste like molecules.

That was never a good sign - even if Dean was a great cook, he always had been - but not for Cas' level of angelic power. Maybe Chuck had decided to fuck them over in another way and taken Cas' powers away, now that he was on the Winchester's and God's bad side once and for all.

He ate the soup, though it added another worry to all the others he already had.

Chuck's true intentions were a discovery Cas wasn't able to stomach lightly as it felt like the world he knew had been revealed as a lie, like they were living their personal, more bloody version of The Truman Show (that's what Dean called it, which was an apt description).

They had fought for free will, but what of it was real? What did it matter if they still were no more than pawns in some sick game?

  
  


He had considered Chuck - God - his father since the moment of creation. Chuck, in return, saw no more in Cas than an ant he watched from outside the antfarm he held them in, killing some and throwing rocks on others heads to keep it amusing.

It was his fragile status in combination with this realization that really taught Cas what not being able to breathe felt like. Millions of years he had served in God's name, done horrible things, others had horrible things done to him in return. All of it for nothing.

  
  


Millions. Of. Years.

  
  


A span of time so long a human mind could never fully grasp it, and he had lived it. For nothing. His whole existence was nothing. Pointless.

  
  


Even both his ongoing conflict with Dean, and with Jack's death paled in comparison to how much it hurt to realize that his whole life had been for nothing, a total waste as it was spent in service of someone who didn't even care and who wasn't worth it, as it turned out.

It was devastating.

_Why am I alive still, and Jack is not? Jack had a purpose, something to live, to strive for. I do not. I never have and I doubt I ever will have._

_It should have been me, dying out there. Not him._

_I'm a liability without my powers. I'm useless, my father betrayed us, my son is dead, and my best friend hates me._

With every breath he had and every thought he made, Cas wished he would just die.

  
  
  
  


Cas was in no shape to get out of bed, much less in going out to hunt and fight monsters. He lay in bed, staring apathetically at the walls of his room, barely acknowledging the Winchesters presence when they sat next to him and didn't talk much.

Still it didn't escape his notice that Sam and Dean were reluctant to leave him alone in the bunker and took turns in staying with him while the other one teamed up with other hunters to fight monsters and the forces of hell, a fact that made him feel even more useless and guilty for being such a burden on the brothers, who surely had better things to do than to coddle a powerless fallen angel. Fighting the latest apocalypse, for example. The world needed the Winchesters, and it needed both of them.

Cas had to just man up and do what he did and support Sam and Dean. He needed another four days, though, until he felt like he could leave the bed.

  
  


On wobbly legs and with a throbbing head, Cas climbed out of bed, left his room and made his way to the kitchen, where he heard the voices of the two hunters. It seemed like Dean was talking to someone on the phone.

"Yeah, no problem, we can go. We're the closest, everyone else would need too long to get there. Don't worry, we'll take care of it. Thanks, Donna." Dean said and ended the call.

He then turned to Sam, who sat on the table, nursing a beer in his hands, all likely to decide who would stay and watch over Cas, but Cas got the drop on them by entering the kitchen. Well, not really entering, as he was still struggling with staying vertical, but he covered this fact quite well.

"I'm coming with you" he said, before either of them spoke.

  
  


Two heads quickly turned in his direction, an expression of disbelief on their faces.

"Cas?!" Dean asked in a tone from which Cas couldn't tell if he was surprised or displeased by his appearance.

"Are you sure you're fit enough? You don't look well and you were, you know, totally running on empty..." Sam asked, the skepticism on his face easier for Cas to read.

"Yes, I am sure. I can fight", Cas insisted, leaning on the wall behind him for support. _I can be useful._

  
  


So they packed their bags, climbed into the Impala, to drive to Clarion, Iowa, where something terrified the populace.

  
  


It was still morning when they left. The air was crisp and clear and the forest around the bunker seemed peaceful. If they didn't know better one would never have guessed that the world was on the brink of another monster apocalypse.

  
  


They hit the road, the motor of the Impala roaring loudly in their ears. Dean behind the wheel staring straight out of the windshield, his fingers drumming on the wheel to the beat of the low-volume classic rock coming out of the radio. Sam was riding shotgun, writing message after message on his phone where he kept tabs on the last Apocalypse World hunters and the others, occasionally updating Dean on where Jaq was right now or what hell spawn Ryan ganked this morning. Cas sat still in the back seat, listened to them, but didn't engage in the sporadic conversations between the brothers. Their drive felt strangely domestic, like the last weeks and all their arguments and moral disagreements had never happened. It was like a relic from an earlier, more peaceful time. Not that they had been on the same page all the time in the past, but their present divide felt more deep, more severe, even for their standards. It literally felt like the end now.

Or maybe Cas was just depressed.

  
  
  
  


Dean didn't say it out loud, but he was more and more worried about Cas, and he knew that Sam was too. Despite his insistence earlier that he was fit and up for hunting, he surely didn't look like that. On the contrary, every time Dean snuck a quick look at him over the rear view mirror, he looked terrible **_._ **

He just sat in the back seat, lost deep in his thoughts, not even acknowledging their presence. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than ever, his eyes looked lifeless and dull when they had been so full of life and curiosity once and his coat seemed to swallow him up, making him look smaller and thinner than normal. This Cas had nothing in common with the proud, self-confident warrior of God that Dean had met ten years ago in that barn, a development Dean played a major role in.

Well, Dean was glad Cas was free from the influence of those angelic douchebags. Looking at him now though, a barely functioning, emotional, disillusioned wreck, Dean felt terribly guilty. _He says he is, he just doesn't look like he's ready to go back out and fight._

  
  
  


Around noon, Dean pulled the car over at a diner at the roadside. Sam and Dean quickly got out of the car and made their way to the entrance. Slowly, Cas followed them inside.

  
  
  
  


Dean and Sam sat in the booth furthest from the counter so they could talk undisturbed.

"I'm worried about him" Sam said, just as the topic of their conversation entered through the front door and, instead of coming over to them, slowly stopped in front of the wall to stare at it, like the tatty decor of a diner in Nowhere, Middle Of, provided answers for his problems.

"Yeah, he's, like, totally out of it. Look at him!" Dean agreed. "I don't care what he says, he doesn't look like he's in peak fighting condition. And it's not like he has a history of not telling us if things are going sideways-" the hunter continued sourly, his mind drifting to Jack, to what happened to Mary, to-

"Dean!" Sam chided, cutting off his train of thought.

"What? You know I'm right, Sam. Cas has repeatedly withheld information from us when he was on one of his ego trips." Dean knew he was right. Sure, he loved the guy, but he wasn't blind to his faults, either. And Cas had a history of keeping things from them and trying to solve problems without them, which usually made everything worse.

  
  


"Still, more arguing won't solve our issues. He's grieving, Dean. I would say he's depressive, but I don't know if angels-" At that point he stopped, because Cas had stopped staring at the photos on the wall and came over to them, but they shared a meaningful look.

  
  
  
  
  


The diner was quite small and, as the average diner right in the middle of nowhere usually did, looked like it had seen better days. Sun-bleached photographs of vintage cars and metal plates decorated the mustard yellow walls, the vinyl padding on the seats was worn out and the air coming from the kitchen smelled like grease. _In short, this is where Dean feels right at home_ , Cas thought as he stopped in front of some of the pictures to look at them. _His dream bar looked better than this, though._

He tried to ignore his growling stomach which had increased since he'd entered the diner. Being hungry was an unpleasant feeling he was sadly not unfamiliar with. Cas had hoped to never feel like this again, but there it was.

Even more difficult to ignore than hunger were the other fears of which he'd thought he'd long since overcome, like the thought of Dean throwing him out back when he was human. Of course, Sam's health had been on the line and Gadreel had blackmailed Dean, and Cas told Jack that he had hated himself during that time.

Now, though. The 'basic me' Cas had told Jack about was no more. What was he, really? His trust, if not in himself, had been with the Winchesters or with God. Chuck saw him, and this world in general, as his own personal playthings, his friendship with Dean and, therefore with Sam, lay in shambles, Jack was dead, and Cas was a useless weight on the shoulders of those who tried to save the world from the monster invasion.

He didn't have much to believe in and not enough strength to believe in himself anymore. The only option that remained was to prove to himself, to Sam and Dean, that he was still worthy to have around, not a liability. He couldn't tell them now that he was becoming human.

But he had to eat something or he would lack the strength to fight soon enough.

  
  


Cas turned away from the metal plates he'd been touching without realizing, vacantly tracing the lines with with his fingers, and made his way over to Sam and Dean.

  
  


The only other customers besides Sam and Dean was a girl who, based on her animated conversation with the waitress, apparently worked in the diner and was here on her free day to chat with her co-worker, and an old man reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, not minding the girl’s chatter right next to him.

Sam and Dean sat on opposite sides of their table, leaning over and whispering to each other but stopped abruptly and straightened up when they spotted Cas.

They had been talking about him, Cas realized - a realization which made his stomach clench.

Why would they whisper about him and stop when he came near them? What wasn't he supposed to hear? It couldn't be anything good.

He sat down next to Sam and forced a smile on his face.

"Have you ordered already?" Cas asked nonchalantly. Sam shook his head. Just then, the waitress appeared at their table and Sam and Dean ordered their usual. Cas ordered a plate of fries and a coffee, which he had done several times in the past so he wasn't ordering nothing, so he suspected if he did it again it wouldn't raise suspicions.

  
  


They ate their meals quickly without talking much. The atmosphere between them was still strange and though it was apparent they had to talk about their issues sooner rather than later, it was also obvious right now was not the right time and place, and none of them were in the mood for smalltalk.

They paid for their meals and were back on the road in no time.

  
  


While they drove, the weather changed. Clouds gathered in the sky and soon it began to rain, the raindrops splattering on the Impala's roof, rivulets running down the windows.

As he sat in the backseat, his head leaning against the window, a memory popped up in Cas' head. Dean and him in the Impala, on a regular Tuesday afternoon when Dean had realized that they didn't have enough snacks and beer for movie night and so he'd taken Cas' with him on his trip to the store. The air was warm as it had been one of the last warm evenings of fall. They were in a good mood. Of course, next to the setting sun the next catastrophe already lurked on the horizon, ready to throw them off the road, but they had been happy that day.

_Dean was playing one of his beloved old music tapes and was drumming on the wheel to the beat of 'Highway Star' as he sang the lyrics of the song for three voices: loud, out of tune and enthusiastic._

"Nobody gonna take my car

I'm gonna race it to the ground!

Nobody gonna beat my car

It's gonna break the speed of sound!

Oooh, it's a killing machine,

It's got everything!

Like a driving power, big fat tyres

And everything!"

_Cas was grinning and Dean threw looks in his directions every few seconds, also grinning from ear to ear, as if he was checking that Cas was also having fun, despite or maybe just because of Dean's subpar ability to sing._

"I love it and I need it!

I bleed it! Yeah, it's a wild hurricane!

Alright, 

hold tight:

I'M! A! HIGH - WAY STAAAAR!"

 _Dean bellowed the refrain out as loud as he could and burst into laughter. Cas was laughing now, too. Dean's good mood was contagious and as he began to play air guitar when the guitar solo started, Cas couldn't spare a thought about how steering a wheel with knees instead of hands to play an air guitar was a_ safety _risk, instead he thought that it looked silly but fun nonetheless. Dean was obviously enjoying himself and Cas loved to see Dean laugh. It was beautiful, but it didn't happen enough._

_They kept on singing and laughing even after Dean had to stop being an air guitarist because he realized pretty fast that navigating real traffic with only his knees wasn't possible._

_Cas remembered how they'd found a parking space, climbed out of the car and entered the store, still snickering. He remembered the confused glances they got from other customers, how Dean had navigated Cas through the aisles of the store by grabbing his coat sleeve, how Dean had tried to buy Cas all kinds of candy Dean liked, and how the smile never left his face for a second as he looked at Cas with a tender expression that made Cas' stomach flutter._

  
  


They arrived in Clarion in the late afternoon and settled down in a motel just outside of town. Dean went in and booked two rooms. Sam and Cas remained in the car, not speaking, until Sam turned around in his seat to face and address Cas directly.

"How – how are you doing back there?"

Cas just shrugged his shoulders, looking at his hands in his lap, but Sam wasn't done yet. "If you feel like you are ready, please talk to us. We're here for you. Okay, Cas?"

The answer was just another shrug.

What was he supposed to answer? That he felt like a worthless, useless piece of garbage, that his powers drained out of him once and for all after their run-in with Chuck, making him even more useless in a fight than he already was? He had lost his son, his whole existence was meaningless, and he still expected Dean to throw him out as soon as he remembered their argument and saw how weak he had become since then. Thus his insistence on accompanying the brothers on this hunt. Either he could prove to them and to himself he was still an asset worthy of having around or he failed and dealt with the consequences.

  
  


Dean returned with the keys. Sam and Cas exited the car and followed Dean to their room.

  
  


In his ten, now almost eleven, years with the Winchesters Cas had seen quite a lot of mediocre motel rooms, more than he'd ever wanted to be honest, and this one was just another. At least this one looked like it had been recently cleaned.

Dean threw his duffel bag on the bed next to the door, like always, Sam took the other bed, and Cas sunk down on the chair next to the window and the little fridge while they took turns in the bathroom to change into their suits.

"We done?" Dean asked as soon as they'd settled in, grabbed the Impala's keys, and opened the door to leave. "Then let's go talk to someone, get a picture of what's happening here."

  
  


As it turned out, they didn't have to talk to anyone to get a first impression. Their motel was situated outside of town and everything appeared to be normal there. As they rode into town, however, they noticed a difference.

"It's like a ghost town" Sam said. He wasn't wrong – every street they passed was deserted, blinds drawn shut, shops closed.

  
  


This was, without question, never a good sign.

  
  


Dean parked the car next to the police station. It was still raining, but the heavy downpour had given way to a lighter drizzle, so they weren't completely soaked through when they exited the car and entered the building.

  
  


A single police officer awaited them. The middle-aged man sat behind a desk in the reception area, watching something on his laptop and visibly startled when they entered.

Sam noticed his quick, nervous glance to the gun right next to him on the table. He visibly relaxed when they pulled their (fake) FBI badges out.

"Hi, we're agents Hudson, Rose, and Adler" Dean introduced them. "According to our information, you reported strange figures roaming the streets, with possible relation to several missing persons cases."

The officer jumped to his feet to greet them. "Officer Mark Bailey," he introduced himself, shaking their hands hastily. "I'm glad you’re here. We've a frightened community on our hands and so far were not able to make sense of what's happening in our town, much less find who's responsible."

  
  


"May we talk to the chief of police about this?" Sam asked.

"They're all out, I'm just here to hold the fort. Everyone who wants to is gathering in the town hall across the street. I wasn't kidding when I said the community is frightened. Many are scared of staying in their own houses right now, as three people vanished right out of their beds. We found traces of fighting and blood. No witnesses as they were all living alone, too. They might have been kidnapped, but there were no ransom notes or anything that would support this. Couple of days ago it all went for the worse when we found a dead dog, looking like it had been through the blender. Somehow, the rumor holds that this wasn't a, pardon my wording, regular animal mauling because it was a grown bull terrier that got mauled. Since then, there’s panic and people flock together, sleep in the town hall and everything. Yesterday, they reported noises in the eastern part of town, so right now everyone who was there is being questioned and the scenes investigated. Takes time, though. We're swamped."

"Where’s the Sheriff?" Dean asked.

"Not here right now. There was a triple homicide over in Eagle Grove, so he had to take off. We're on our own right now, so any help will be appreciated."

  
  


Sam thanked the officer before they bid farewell and left the police station to go to town hall.

"What do you think?" Sam asked on the way over. "At first I thought vamp or ghoul, but it doesn’t match their behavior. Or it's a ghost."

"Could be veggie vamps, maybe? Or zombies again?" Dean spitballed. "Let's talk to some more people and let's see if we can get our hands on some pictures of that mangled dog."

Sam made a face at that. _Oh right_ , _Sam likes dogs,_ Dean thought.

  
  


Inside it was brimming with people. Sleeping bags lay on the floor, tables were filled with fruit, sandwiches, tea, coffee, water, and juice. Men and women stood or sat together in groups, were preparing sandwiches, eating, or preparing their sleeping arrangements. Children were running around, screeching, not bothered by the reason they were here. It looked like a giant sleepover, if not for the few police officers talking to one person at a time in a comparatively calm corner of the room. 

Right now, an older woman was being questioned by two of the police officers, who, according to another, were the chief and the assistant chief of police.

As Sam, Dean, and Cas crossed the room, the two police officers halted their questioning, eyeing the trio curiously in their approach.

Dean pulled his badge out before the policemen opened their mouths, and introduced them again as agents Hudson, Rose, and Adler.

"Good evening, gentlemen,'' said the chief of police, shaking their hands introducing himself as Herman Parker, Chief of Police, and his assistant, Benjamin Rosetree. "What's the FBI doing here, if I may ask? Not that I'm not glad to see you, I just wasn't expecting you so fast."

"This case bears resemblance to something we worked a couple of years ago" Dean said quickly, which was only half true, as they didn't know yet what was happening at all, but on the other hand, it was still pretty likely with the enormous number of cases they’d worked.

"Your colleague told us about a mauled dog. Are there any photos of his wounds we could take a look at?" Cas asked. The chief nodded. "Of course, Officer Rosetree will show you" he said, signaling his assistant. The two immediately went off, back over to the precinct.

Sam and Dean stayed, watching Cas follow the chief assistant with a determined look on his face, his coattails flapping behind him.

  
  


"Have you had success with your questioning the people here so far?" Sam asked. Dean tore his gaze away from Cas’ retreating form and turned towards his brother and the police officer, who shook his head, crestfallen.

"Not so far, sadly. Everyone has heard something, I'm fairly sure some even have seen something, and I can see they're scared, but no one wants to talk to us about it. Something's up. I don't get it."

Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look. They got that a lot. There was definitely something supernatural going on here.

"So you think the people know something they don't wanna tell you?" Dean asked. "Do you have any idea why?"

"Seems like it. I don't know, I mean, I can see that they are scared."

  
  


Dean took a closer look at the people in the hall. Some sat together in groups and quietly talked with each other, throwing side glances to the policemen while doing so, as if to assure themselves they were out of earshot. They definitely looked unsettled, some even outright scared. Dean was sure they had seen something they couldn't quite believe themselves and so they figured the police wouldn't either.

  
  


"What about the traffic and surveillance cams?"

"There are a couple of cameras in that part of town. We checked all the traffic cams already, but they haven't picked up anything suspicious. Our best chance was the funeral home's security camera, but the owner doesn't want us to review the footage and we could order him to give it to us but that would take a couple of days. Another store along the road has cameras, too. We're still trying to get to them first."

"Do we know why the funeral home is keeping the footage under wraps?"

"Mr Marsh, the funeral home director, seemed scared, too. He wasn't very talkative. The neighbors were more forthcoming, but still, nobody told us more than that they heard shuffling outside, strange noises like growls and moans."

"Moans?"

"Yes."

Sam and Dean exchanged another knowing look. It was at this moment that Cas and the assistant chief returned "Agents" he said, "can we talk for a second, please?"

They excused themselves from the police officers and searched for a quiet corner in which they could talk.

The quiet corner turned out to be the men's restroom, because every other room right now buzzed with activity.Sam checked the stalls for an accidental eavesdropper and Cas leaned against the door, so he'd feel when someone tried to enter.

"Okay, Cas, what d'you got?" Dean asked, as soon as the room was clear.

"The dog was alive when he was torn apart. Also, the bite marks look like they come from a human set of teeth", Cas reported. Sam nodded, slowly. "This fits the story we were told. The people reported shuffling and loud moans outside their homes to the police. Plus, the funeral home director refuses to disclose the footage of his security cameras" the hunter said.

"So we got zombies on our hands again."

"Seems like it,", Dean said and clapped his hand on Cas' shoulder. "Come on, let's see if we can find this funeral home guy. Shouldn't be too difficult to crack him. Although, if he's stubborn, we'll have Sam hack his hard drive."

  
  


"Do we even need the video anymore, now we know what we are up against?" Cas asked.

"It would be helpful, definitely,” Sam said "last time we fought against zombies we escaped only thanks to you, Cas, and we still don't know how many of them are here. Plus, we have a town full of scared people and nervous cops on our hands this time. Anyway, I'll try and ask if anyone from the hunter community could come for back-up."

Dean added: "We try not to, but if we have to, if there are too many zombies or we can't find backup, we might have to clue the police in on the supernatural And a video showing some real life Dawn of the Dead reenactment might convince them more than if they have our word only."

  
  


Sam, Dean, and Cas returned to the hall.

"We want to talk to Mr Marsh ourselves. Maybe he will be more cooperative if the FBI is involved", Sam told the police officer. 

The chief immediately agreed. "He's a stubborn bastard, I'm telling you, but it won't hurt if you also talk to him", he said and with his thumb he pointed over his shoulder at a man in the middle of the room.

The three of them approached him. "Mr Marsh?" Dean asked. "Could we talk to you for a second?"

The man didn't exactly flinch, but Sam saw how he immediately sprung into defensive mode. "Is this about the video footage? I think I already made it crystal clear that I won't release it to you guys. I'm sorry, but your intimidation tactics won't work with me, gentlemen."

"Mr Marsh- please. We're not judging you, but we think you know exactly what is running around out there, and it has to be stopped" Sam said, a pleading, approachable tone in his voice.

This prompted a reaction out of the man. "'What?' Shouldn't it be 'who' is running around out there?"

Dean grinned as he said "No, he means it exactly like he said it. Which is why we have to talk to you as we think you might verify our suspicions."

"We ought to go somewhere private for this, if you are okay with this." Cas added and gestured to the door with a nod.

  
  


It actually worked.

Mr Marsh followed them outside (as the men's room was occupied this time).

  
  


Above their heads, dusk painted the sky in a color palette ranging from orange, rose, to a dark blue as they stepped out of the city hall. The funeral home director immediately lit up a cigarette, took a long drag, sighed, and threw Sam, Dean, and Cas an expectant look. "You wanted to talk," he said and exhaled the cigarette smoke "So talk."

  
  


The three of them shared a look. Then Sam spoke. "We're here because we suspect there's something going on that's not… normal."

"We've done dozens of cases like this. Did you notice the spike in unsolved accidents, murders, etcetera in the last weeks, months or so? We're working to get behind those while staying under the radar. The truth would only unsettle people, or worst case scenario; civilians trying to go up against it themselves."

Marsh stared at them, his eyes jumping from one to the other. "So… so you're basically saying you're _X-Files_. The _X-Files_ are real."

Sam shook his head. "No, we're not. The concept is quite similar, though."

Marsh seemed thoughtful, seriously considering telling them, but a rest of doubt still remained visible in his face.

"I- I don't know," he murmured "I'm putting myself at risk here. I can't risk my business, and if I incidentally make people think I'm not doing my job right, then…"

"If it helps, we won't run around in the streets and tell people what's coming out of their graveyard at night. Your business would be safe with us," Sam said, sounding understanding and kind. Time to drive the nail home.

"With the cops in there… not so much. They're cops, but they are clueless and sticklers for protocol, so everything would go public in some way or other… We won't pressure you into a decision right now," Dean said and gave the man a business card. "You can reach us at this number. Call us."

  
  


Not much later, after they'd made a quick detour to a fast food restaurant outside of town for a quick dinner and a truck stop to buy some drinks and snacks, the Winchesters returned to their motel. Dean called dibs on the bathroom to take a shower, while Sam and Cas settled on the bed and the sofa.

Cas felt tired, but he knew he couldn't fall asleep as long as Sam and Dean were still awake themselves if he wanted to keep his dwindling powers secret for now, if he wanted to keep the peace as long as Dean and Sam had no reason to cancel the truce they apparently had set in place right now. They would find out soon enough, remember what he'd done to them, to Mary, to Jack, and remember they didn't want him around anymore, that he was more trouble than he was worth, useless and powerless as he was becoming now. He wasn't stupid. He knew Sam and Dean already suspected something was going on with him, something he wasn't telling them.

 _Today went well_ , Cas thought, _but I cannot fool myself. I live on borrowed time. Hiding humanity from them won't be easy, especially when we live together in close quarters like this._

  
  


Of course, three hours later Cas couldn't sleep. After spending a whole evening pretending that he wasn't about to fall from his chair and just fall asleep on the floor, now that the Winchesters were asleep in their beds themselves, sleep evaded him. So he lay on the uncomfortable sofa in their room, stared at the ceiling and listened to Sam and Dean's slow breaths.

  
  


_Watching them sleep, listening to their breathing, Dean would say this is creepy_ , he thought.

Maybe it was this thought that made him rise up, pull the trench coat over his shoulders, and leave the motel room. The air outside felt cold, unpleasant, but he could ignore it for the moment.

  
  
  
  


Dean woke to the sound of a door closing. It hadn't been loud, but after years where not waking up from small noises could mean a brutal death, it felt as loud as a gunshot to him.

He threw a quick glance over to Sam, who still slept. Looking over to the empty sofa, where Cas was supposed to be but wasn't, provided Dean with the answer to the pressing question who had caused the sound. It was their angel. Their grieving angel who wasn't himself right now.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean spit out, scrambled out of his sheets, climbed into his jeans, threw his jacket over his shoulders and followed Cas outside.

To his immense relief, Cas wasn't trying to hijack the Impala to get away from here, from them. He leaned on the railing of the walkway of their motel and just stared into the cloudy night sky.

  
  


"Not a good night for stargazing," Dean said and came to a halt next to his angel, who abruptly turned and wordlessly stared at him with wide, blue eyes.

"Hello Dean," he finally said after some moments of hesitation. Then he fell silent. Dean waited for him to say something else, but Cas kept quiet.

"You woke me up," Dean added "when you left, I mean."

"I am sorry, Dean, that was not my intention."

"Don't apologize. I'd go crazy too if I had to stay in there all night long, staring at the walls."

Cas again didn't comment.

Unlucky for Cas, Dean was dead set on reconnecting with his best friend and firmly ignored his dismissive attitude.

  
  


"Cas, are you okay?” he asked, "And don't say ‘fine’, I can see that you are struggling with everything. And I just… I know I behaved like an asshole, but I'm here for you if you need to talk."

It still hurt Dean to just look at him, sad and lost as he was, when Dean was convinced that this angel deserved everything, deserved all the good things in this world-

  
  


Cas looked away, his gaze fixed on something, or nothing, out there in the dark right in front of them, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

Dean didn't expect Cas to actually say something for they were still stuck in this limbo where Dean didn't know how and when best to apologize and struggled with his feelings for the angel which complicated everything tenfold and so he’d rather do nothing at all, and Cas was mourning Jack and also probably still pissed as hell at him. Dean had told him to leave, they had ended their friendship several times in the last six months. If Dean wanted to make things up with Cas, rekindle their friendship or even take a step towards something more, then he needed to grovel and beg the angel to forgive him for treating him like his personal scapegoat. And Cas needed to start trusting Dean and Sam with his problems instead of shutting them out to try and deal with it himself. They needed to work on their communication, for both of their sakes. The fact that even Dean saw the absolute necessity of them talking about their feelings was telling enough.

  
  


For several minutes, neither of them spoke a word. Then, Cas surprised him again when he started to talk.

"For all those years since I joined you, I, we fought for free will together. This is what I believed God stood for, regarding humanity and this world. But what exactly did we fight, kill, and die for, if we're nothing more than chess pieces for him to toss around for entertainment?"

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat. "That's some pretty heavy stuff there, Cas… I can't imagine how horrible this must be for you…" he said with the quickly growing feeling of inadequacy. His best friend finally opened up to him after he'd rarely spoken a word for _weeks_ when he just as well could have stopped talking to Dean altogether after how he had treated him _,_ and now Dean had nothing else for him than a couple of shallow platitudes that wouldn't even cheer up a human, much less a celestial being as old as the universe. He truly was a horrible friend.

Carefully, he placed a hand on Cas' shoulder, wary of intruding Cas' space. The angel acknowledged it with a short, apparently surprised glance and didn't draw away. After a short pause, he continued talking.

"All our thoughts and feelings - are they really ours? Have we felt them and do we feel them still because they are genuine, or are they projections we are feeling because Chuck wants us to feel them? And what exactly did I fight for when free will is probably nothing more than something Chuck wanted us to fight for? Did we ever really have it - free will? He endorsed our dispute, he killed our son just for fun, he threw another apocalypse just because he was angry that we wanted some peace. Where else has he sabotaged us, or our efforts?"

"So you say that Team Free Will was an illusion after all?" Dean asked, his stomach turning at the thought.

"Pretty much. We were nothing more than puppets on a string for the one I consider my father. What angers me the most of all is that I should have known better. Still, I had faith."

"You know, I don't know what I think is worse: that Chuck might have manipulated me for all my life or that I tried to kill Jack like some cold blooded murderer all by myself… I shouldn't even think about shifting the guilt to someone else, because in the end, I did what I did. There's no excuse."

"In the end you still made the right choice, Dean."

"No, it was too little, too late. Also, it wasn't the first time I let him down or treated him like shit."

They fell quiet again and with that, their conversation fizzled out. Dean felt like he had made progress with Cas, though, as the angel had finally opened up to him and they had managed a real conversation without any hostile accusations.

  
  


_Maybe we can salvage our friendship after all. If we get a little time…_ Dean thought while his gaze lingered on the angel next to him.

"Cas" he said and opened his mouth to follow up with _I'm sorry for how I treated you. You didn't deserve this. We all should have known something was up with Jack_ \- but he never got to it. His phone rang.

Mentally cursing the interruption, Dean took the call.

"Hello?"

"Agent Hudson?", the voice on the other side asked, sounding frightened. "It's Frank Marsh, you gave me your number earlier. I'm very sorry for the late disturbance, but there-, there's something at my house! W- Whatever it is, it tried to get in. I locked the door but what if it finds another way in? I don't know what to do!"

 _Oh shit_.

"Where are you right now? Is there someone with you in the house? Are all entrances locked?"

"My daughter's here with me, we’re in the bathroom. We have a shotgun with us."

"Lock the bathroom door and cover up the windows. We're on our way."

  
  


Dean and Cas dashed back into their room, all thoughts of talking out their problems forgotten for the moment. Dean tossed Cas the key to the Impala. "Get the car ready, I'll wake Sam and dress. Two minutes."

Cas snatched the keys, nodded and left, and Dean shook Sam awake. "Quick Sammy, the zombies are on the move again" Dean said **.** Sam woke in an instant, jumped out of bed and dressed just as quickly as Dean had. Exactly two minutes later both stormed out into the parking lot, jumped into the Impala and drove off the motel's parking lot with screeching tires.

The mood in the car was tense as Dean, who had taken over the wheel from Cas sped through the dark and deserted streets towards their zombie-infested destination.

Sam wordlessly reached for the duffel bag with the weapons next to him and filled his and Dean's gun with bullets - regular ones, not silver bullets. They managed to take some of them down with a piece of iron fence that day in the graveyard, which meant no special requirements for zombie killing bullets.

Cas felt the cold pressure of his angel blade in his sleeve. He felt nervous. Would he still be able to smite his enemies or was his grace already too depleted? Whatever the case, he had to prove he was still an asset. He needed a win for Sam and Dean.

  
  


The phone rang again and Sam answered the call.

“We’re on our way. If possible, barricade all entrances.” After a short pause he added “Stay where you are if you can and stay quiet. Don't engage, only if there is no other way. Yes, take your shotgun but don't play the hero. Don't engage, we'll deal with it.” Then he ended the call.

  
  


As soon as they reached the Marsh Funeral Home at the outskirts of town, the problem – a herd of approximately fifty undead people sneaking around the house and through the garden of the Marsh’s family house next to the funeral home became visible. Baby’s headlights tore a white shining beacon through the dark of the night, illuminating the porch of the house and the zombies trying to break through the door.

  
  


As soon as they saw the light, the undead abandoned the door and swarmed out in the direction of the Impala.

  
  


The three hunters were all out of the car and ready to fight by the time the monsters reached them. The immediate attack was messy. Neither Sam nor Dean had much time to use their guns to their advantage as the undead were immediately upon them. Dean still managed to empty a clip into several of their opponents. Cas buried his blade deep in zombie neck after zombie neck, feeling the adrenaline high rushing through his newly human body. Blood from slit throats splattered on his white shirt and colored it red. Breathless, Cas turned around and stabbed a zombie right in the heart, then spun again and sank his blade in the chest of a zombie who flung himself at him, just in time to prevent the monster from sinking his teeth into Cas’ neck. 

A gasp for air, then another zombie launched itself at Cas. It screeched loudly, its empty eyes fixed on him. He ducked away from the first attack, swung the angel blade and slashed in retaliation. His swing with the blade missing the zombie only by inches. The next hit found its mark and with a sickening squelch buried itself into the zombie’s shoulder. Breathing through his mouth, Cas yanked his blade back out. The zombie collapsed. Instantly, another took his place.

  
  


Meanwhile, Sam held himself like the seasoned hunter he was, only a couple steps away from Cas, corpses piling up in front of him which grew in size every few seconds. The stench of rotten meat was overwhelming.

Gunshots sounded through the night as Dean felled several of the zombies in one swoop before he swiftly climbed on Baby’s hood to reload his gun, from where he killed another five of their attackers in a matter of seconds.

  
  


Then, one of them got a hold of Dean’s leg and pulled.

  
  


“ _Dean!”_ Cas shouted, feeling like his heart was about to give out. Immediately, his mind supplied him with the horrifying vision of Dean losing his footing and toppling from the car, right in front of his attackers – and in an adrenalin-fueled knee-jerk reaction he threw himself in Dean’s direction to come to the hunter’s aid.

Which, as it turned out, wasn’t even needed, as Dean regained his balance and got rid of the zombie with a headshot.

  
  


And instead of Dean it was Cas who lost his balance, now that the obstacle was out of his way. He crashed head first against the Impala. He heard the loud crack before he felt it. Moments after, pain exploded in his head and with a grunt he sank down to the ground. Immediately, several zombies were upon him, blocking the light and scratching him with their dirty, bloody nails. A tear of fabric somewhere, maybe his coat, then pain exploded in his side. He screamed.

Somewhere far away someone shouted his name. Cas wanted to answer but could only groan. He had to get up, though. Had to shake off the zombies. The fight was not over yet and he still needed to show he was capable of fending for himself. Something wet and warm ran down his side. _I'm bleeding..._ Cas thought. The stench of rotten meat intensified again and made him so nauseous that for a second he feared he was going to pass out just when he tried to get up again.

A gunshot was fired right next to him, then another, and Cas spotted the shadow of a large figure right next to him currently wrestling a zombie.

_Sam._

“Cas, are you okay?” the hunter asked, looking at him over his shoulder.

“Yes, I’m-” Cas said but got interrupted as another monster launched himself at him, his half-rotten face contorted into an ugly snarl. More out of reflex than anything else Cas swung the arm still holding his blade and the monster crumbled on the ground. Cas struggled for breath. Everything hurt.

  
  


The fallen angel tried to conjure up the last remnants of his grace to heal himself, although the warmth of the essence which once defined his whole existence, the meaning of his life didn’t come. Apparently, it was completely gone now.

  
  


He’d had several weeks, no, months, to come to terms with this fact and still, the realization that he was now once and for all irrevocably human felt like another stab in the chest. Just barely he suppressed a sob. The lump in his throat remained.

  
  


He had more difficulty dealing with the undead. It probably wasn’t even a concussion and it still affected his motor abilities and responsiveness.

Luckily, Sam hadn’t left his side after his crash, helping him out while Dean still stood above them on Baby’s hood and made short work of the zombies.

Not long after, the number of attacking monsters finally abated and it became easier to deal with the stragglers. Those had to make their way over a lot of dead zombie corpses first, effectively slowing them down, which meant that one of the three of them already awaited them to put a bullet or a blade into them.

Finally, it was over.

And all three of them were still alive.

“ _You’re going fast when I wanna go slow,_

_you make me run when I want to walk._

_You’re sending me down a rocky road,_

_I get confused when you start to talk._

_I’m feeling pushed again, feeling pushed again._

_I’m feeling pushed again,_

_pushed again._

_Why can’t you just leave me alone?_

_You’re dragging me right to the edge._

_I’ve got to go when you jerk my rope,_

_I don’t know where the good times went._

_And I’m sick of this pain in my head._

_And I’m scared I’m being pushed – being pushed again._

_It’s getting more than I can take,_

_It's like a band tightening around my head._

_If you keep pushing, something’s going to break,_

_it’s making me think, I’d be better off dead._

_Why can’t you just leave me alone?_

_Solitude is a faithful friend._

_I’ll sort my life out on my own,_

_I just want this pressure to end._

_And I’m sick of this pain in my head._

_And I’m scared I’m being pushed – being pushed again.”_

**Die Toten Hosen** , [“Pushed Again”](https://youtu.be/gychWtrUta8)

  
  



End file.
